


Catch Me If You Can

by Jolteon564



Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Based off of GTA (Grand Trouble Artist) by Lee Taeyong, Crimes & Criminals, Criminal Lee Taeyong, Gen, Guns, Lee Taeyong is a Tease, Mild Language, Police, Songfic, chase scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25806994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jolteon564/pseuds/Jolteon564
Summary: Nobody knows who he is. All they know is that he goes by the alias "Grand Trouble Artist." And this Grand Trouble Artist is the most wanted criminal in Seoul.
Kudos: 7





	Catch Me If You Can

Midnight in Seoul.

Normally, no one would be out at this time of night. But the hunt for Seoul’s most wanted criminal never stops, regardless of what the current time is. 

After all, crime never sleeps. Neither do the cops.

The young man, perched on a low rooftop, watched the policemen in the alleyway as they swept their flashlight beams through the dark. He sucked on a lollipop leisurely, the mask on his face tilted up in the slightest so only his mouth showed. 

He knew the cops would find him. A wanted criminal who spent every waking minute on the run. But oddly enough, he would always alert them to his location.

After all, what fun was there in hiding if someone wasn't chasing him?

“Evening, gentlemen.”

The policemen froze, then turned their flashlight beams simultaneously towards the figure on the rooftop, shadowed against the full moon.

The Grand Trouble Artist smirked, eyes narrowing behind his mask as he finished his lollipop. 

The hunt was about to begin. 

“Fancy meeting you here, mister Grand Trouble Artist,” the leader of the group intoned, a tall, muscular man who’s gruff voice dripped with sarcasm. “Come down from that rooftop and nobody gets hurt.”

Lifting his mask, the young man chuckled, a deep sound echoing in the stillness of the night as he pulled himself up into a standing position.

“If you want me, then come and get me.”

“Yah, don’t be so cocksure, pal,” said a second officer. “You’re easily outnumbered. You can never outrun the law.”

The figure on the rooftop cocked an eyebrow, lips stretching into an evil grin.

“We’ll see about that, shall we?”

And with that, he was off like a bullet from a gun, leaving the policemen in his wake.

“Well, what are you fools gawking at?!  _ After him!”  _ the leader bellowed, and the others complied, their boots pounding against the pavement.

Adrenaline coursed through the man’s veins as he rushed down the alleyway, having left his rooftop perch. He lived for the thrill of the chase, thrived on the drama. He was the clever gingerbread man; the police were his pursuers hungry for a piece of him.

Playing with danger was always his favorite pastime, treating his brushes with the fuzz as if it was all part of a game. 

And it was just how he liked it.

Stopping to catch his breath, he reached up to remove his mask, discarding it with a flick of his wrist. 

_ Let them try to catch me. Let the bastards think they can keep up with me,  _ he thought, shrugging nonchalantly.  _ News flash: They can’t. _

“Put your hands in the air.”

The squadron had indeed caught up to him, surrounding him so he was backed up against the alley wall.

_ Damn. I’m cornered. Looks like I’m gonna have to sweet-talk them into letting me go. _

“And what might you fine men be doing on such a night like this?” the young man drawled, leaning against the wall and stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. But the policemen had their guns out in a heartbeat, all of them pointed at one target: Him.

“Now, we don’t wanna take you back to HQ riddled with bullet holes, don’t we?” the head policeman asked. “I repeat, put your hands in the air.”

“Ohh, officer-nim, you wouldn’t shoot someone who’s unarmed,” the man crooned, clasping his hands over his chest in feigned shock. “I’m your  _ friend.  _ I’m just an obedient, innocent law-abiding citizen.”

The burly man scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m Kim Jong-un. Hands up where we can see ‘em, kid.”

The Grand Trouble Artist slowly raised his hands over his head. 

_ Let ‘em think they’ve won.  _

“Aish… well, it was fun while it lasted. You’ve caught me.”

He saw the leader smile.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, now was it? Now just come a little closer and let us-  _ oof!” _

The bigger man recoiled, clutching his stomach in pain as his seemingly willing captive pounced upon him and his men, exploding into a blur of motion. 

Chaos ensued.

Now, the policemen may have been bigger and stronger than their target, but as the old saying goes, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. He was just too quick for them; the many blows aimed at him from their swinging fists and kicking feet never seemed to land. 

And then, one of the younger officers cried out:

“That little weasel lied to us… he  _ is  _ armed!”

Somehow, the young man, no longer cornered, had procured a gun of his own, a shiny pistol aimed at the policemen. His chest was heaving, but his hand was steady, finger curled around the trigger.

“Now, you don’t wanna take me back to HQ riddled with bullet holes, don’t you?” he wheezed, smirking at the wide-eyed officers. “And I don’t mean myself, I mean  _ you.”  _

Some of the officers glanced around nervously, lowering their guns and shivering at the sound of their own leader’s words directed towards them. “‘Obedient, innocent law-abiding citizen’ my ass,” spat the leader of the squadron. “You’re not going anywhere. You are under arrest.”

“Oh, am I?”

“You know the drill. Hands in the air.”

And once again, the leader, the hunter, saw his prey raise his arms above his head. Victory was so close, he could almost smell it-

_ “Sike.” _

Quick as a wink, the young man produced a small, spherical object and threw it at his feet, and thick, choking smoke soon filled the alleyway. The officers couldn’t see a thing, coughing and spluttering as they searched blindly for their captive.

Unbeknownst to them, said captive had already slipped away unnoticed, hacking up a stray lungful of smoke as he rounded the corner and out of the alleyway. He allowed himself a small fist pump at his success.

_ Smoke bomb. Always comes in handy.  _

“Shit,” he heard one of the officers swear. “He got away.”

“Slippery little bastard, ain’t he?” another replied.

“Where did he run off to this time?” the leader’s voice echoed through the alleyway. “He’s armed and dangerous, and he needs to answer to the law.”

“Yoo-hoo, officer-nim,” a voice sing-songed from behind where the policemen were standing. As they turned around to see where the voice was coming from, the young man’s head popped out from around the corner. “Looking for me?”

“Why, you little-” The head policeman was beyond angry. This was definitely going to be the last time that annoying crow-tit had evaded him. 

_ I’m gonna catch that little son of a bitch, dammit. I’ll have him thrown in jail even if it’s the last thing I do. _

“All right, punk,” he growled, “you wanna do this the easy way or the hard way? You can come quietly or else we can shoot you dead in this very street.”

“You’re gonna have to catch me first,” the young man grinned, blowing a kiss towards the policemen and laughing his best supervillain-esque laugh. And when they blinked, he was gone.

_ “After him!  _ Don’t you dare let him escape!” snarled the leader. “Move your behinds before I move them for you!”

Once again, the chase was on. This time, wailing sirens pierced the silence of the night as the squadron piled into their police cars. Sparing a glance over his shoulder, the young man could see them gaining on him. 

_ Yeah, that’s it. Come closer and see how far you can get before you return empty-handed. _

His breakneck sprinting slowed to an easy jog, then a trot. Then he was still.

“Okay, this is your last warning,” the leader’s voice crackled over a bullhorn. “Turn around with your hands up where we can see them.”

Their captive peeked over his shoulder, then turned around, spinning on one heel.

Then he burst into a fit of laughter.

_ “Aish, _ you guys, you really think you can catch me?” he cackled, doubling over and hugging his belly. “Guess again, lamebrains. You can never put me in handcuffs or throw me in jail. I, The Grand Trouble Artist, will always win in the end.”

“We’ll see about that, mister Lee Taeyong,” the leader replied, and the young man froze. 

_ They know my name? _

“You may think that you can escape us, but I am afraid to say that your life of crime has ended at this point.” The policemen had exited their cars and were advancing towards him. “By the power vested in me, you are now under arrest.”

The game was up.

But that didn’t mean it was the end of the line for him.

Lee Taeyong shrugged casually, then held his arms out.

“Well played, officer-nim. I’m all yours.”

The drive back to the police headquarters was a short one, but time didn’t matter for the handcuffed man in the backseat. 

He had other plans for them.

The Grand Trouble Artist laughed quietly to himself.

_ We’ll see if you can outfox me next time. _

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the story is inspired by Lee Taeyong’s song “GTA (Grand Trouble Artist)” and the video “Actor Taeyong” by a YouTube channel named Limitless TY where they provide a brilliant analysis of his performances of the aforementioned song, depicting him as taking on a criminal character who plays with danger and is always hungry for trouble.


End file.
